Mommy is Yellow
by WhatTheValhalla
Summary: I've seen a lot of Mother's day fics on here, but their mainly just Sam-centric, this one, however, focuses on Dean's first mother's day without Mary. WARNING Angst, Angst, and Ansty Angst


On Dean's first mother's day without actually having one, John dropped both his boys off at the day-care they were staying in while he followed up on a YED lead, but instead of interviewing the three witnesses who might know something, he went straight to the local bar, with no intentions of leaving before it was dark.

Dean, on the other hand, was in a room full of loud three-five year olds. Sammy was in a room with the other one-two year olds, and he only let them take Sammy because he always snuck in to the room and sat with his brother when no one was looking, but today was different, today there were tables set out with construction paper, glitter, crayons, felt shapes, and many other things Dean couldn't even begin to identify.

"Okay, everyone. Today we're all going to make card for our Mommies," Miss Annie said in her soft, kind voice. Dean sat by the edge of one of the tables, not sure if he was allowed to join in. He didn't have a mommy anymore, so he didn't need to make a card.

Miss Annie noticed him, and asked him why he wasn't joining in.

"I don't have Mommy to make a card for," he said softly, afraid she might make him sit in a corner because everyone else had a Mommy, but Dean's was gone so that made him different.

"Oh honey," she said, and Dean smiled because his Mommy used to say that to him, and Miss Annie's hair was yellow, like his Mommy's was, and if he squinted a teeny bit he could almost pretend Miss Annie was his Mommy.

"It's okay, I don't have a Mommy anymore either, but you could make a card any way," she continued, and Dean smiled because he had an idea, a really good idea that might make Daddy happy. His idea was so good he thought it might fix everything. They might be able to go home, and not stay in a motel anymore because it smelled funny and the bathwater was never warm enough.

"Okay, I'm gonna make a card for my Daddy, is that okay?"

"Of course it is, Dean." Miss Annie smiled and handed Dean a piece of white paper, folded in the middle to make a card.

Dean got to work, drawing and colouring and glittering until it was perfect. He just knew his Daddy was going to love it.

* * *

Dean handed the card to his Daddy after they had gotten back to the smelly motel, although it didn't smell as badly as his Daddy did.

"What is it?" John asked gruffly, card held loosely in his hand. He had walked the boys home because no matter how drunk he got, he could still hear Mary's voice telling him to mind her boys.

"It's Mommy," Dean answered proudly, pointing to different parts of the picture, "Look, that's her yellow hair, and that's the pretty red top, and that's her loooooong legs, and that's her halo 'cause she's an angel, and it's yellow because Mommy is yellow."

John looked closely as his eldest son pointed out the different parts of his dead wife. He still remembered how her hair had looked like yellow sunshine, brighter that the brightest stars even in the dark. And he remembered the red top, it was one of her favourites because it used to be John's but she had one it to bed one night when he stayed out late with some mates, and he hadn't the heart to make her give it back.

With tears stinging his eyes, John pushed Dean, only a little, and ran into the bathroom, locking it behind him.

* * *

Dean didn't know what was going on. The card was supposed to make his Daddy happy, not sad. They were all going to go back to their house, and then they would wake up and Mommy would be there again and everything would be right. But Dean was pulled from his thought by Sammy trying to call to him. He had been doing that a lot. It wasn't talking, not yet, but Dean knew it meant Sammy wanted to tell him something, so he walked over to his baby brother.

Sammy held his arms out for a hung, so Dean wrapped himself around the youngest Winchester and fell asleep like that. He didn't wake when John emerged from the bathroom and pulled the blanket over him, he just snuggled down, looking for once just five years old, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.


End file.
